


dysfunctional

by winterwoozii



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Awkward Conversations, Awkward Tension, Fluff and Crack, Fun All Around, M/M, Meeting the Parents, Mild Sexual Content, Mild Smut, just awkward woozi in general, scoops doesn't trust himself to make it out of this night alive, very mild, woozi and his anxiety
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-10
Updated: 2018-06-10
Packaged: 2019-05-20 12:37:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,124
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14894771
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/winterwoozii/pseuds/winterwoozii
Summary: In which Jihoon meets Seungcheol's parents and shit really hits the fan.





	dysfunctional

**Author's Note:**

> inspired by my own dinner table occurrences (except i don't have any significant other). social anxiety really makes everything the bomb.com. at least i wrote this crap from it, ehehe.
> 
> ⇞don't repost/reuse/copy without my permission!⇟
> 
> i tried, i really did. 
> 
> pls still love our wonderful coupzi ship. ʚ♡ɞ(ू•ᴗ•ू❁)

_Ding Dong._

That was the sound of Jihoon's life practically imploding in front of his very, granted, narrow eyes. Or ears. Both of which were small and ready to hightail the fuck outta there.

"Ready?" Seungcheol, his boyfriend, clarified for about the 50th time, one for every step in his 'rent's huge ass front yard. What was this, Garden of Eden? 

 _Nope,_ the smaller wanted so desperately to snap back, but he didn't even get the chance to utter out a syllable as the front door swung open, revealing a fucking fitness coach with a walking stick. No, but seriously, Cheol's dad had  _washboards._  Goddamn cheese graters.

And,  _no,_ Jihoon was definitely not ogling over a 50+ year old man. He was better than that! Right--?

"Hey," the older man drawled, wide doe eyes--they reminded him of Seungcheol's--observing the two men. "I take it you're the 'Lee Jihoon' my son has been non-stop talking about?

A small gulp formed in the 96-liner's throat, blocking out any chance of a rational conversation, as a smattering of blush formed across his cheeks. Seungcheol talked about him? And then suddenly the first thing that popped into mind was,

"What's your workout routine?"

Great.

Just fucking great.

He had to blow up everything, didn't he? TNT who-? AC/DC should write a fucking song about him, Lee Jihoon, master of awkwardness and blunt questions.

Above his right shoulder, he could practically feel his beau's sweat dripping down the side of his face, mouth agape in a desperate attempt to salvage whatever was left of his own, and Jihoon's, dignity. But no, shortie here came in like a fucking wrecking ball, and even naked Miley Cyrus couldn't help that.

Mr. Choi simply chuckled, tucking his cane snugly onto the wall as he did a few waist rotations. All in which he mused, "You're interested in gaining muscles? I'm sure our Cheollie wouldn't approve of that, seeing as how much he talks about your squishiness and chubby cheeks."

One hand coming up to tap his cheek self-consciously, Jihoon wondered just how much Seungcheol told his parents. Might as well rip off all warning labels and respond to his mother's ever-consistent dinner question, 'How was your day, sweetie?' with 'Oh, it was fun. Just fucked my tiny boyfriend against every surface in my apartment, might need to remodel, but his squishy tummy is just  _so_ adorable and I couldn't resist!'. And then they'd reply with, 'That's amazing, honey. Your dad and I are so proud of you,' because that's the fucking supermodel parents Jihoon thinks that Cheol has.

The conversation died there as they were lead inside, hand slipping into one another's for mutual reassurance (although, Seungcheol looked like he needed it more). The 'rents invited them to explore around, as if this was some maze and they were measly mice, so that they could cook supper in peace. Nodding in assent, Jihoon let his boyfriend drag him around since, well, this was  _his_ childhood house.

They passed by several hallways, all which looked the same to the younger's poor eye. Framed artwork and photography lined the walls, probably more money than Jihoon's entire bank account, but hey, who was counting? "You're filthy rich," he harshly whispered to the taller, not even able to hide his wide-eyed gawking.

"Please don't tell me you're just dating me for my money. I've had enough surprises for the night, and we haven't even had dinner yet," said tall-person groaned, seemingly not over the fiasco at the door. 

"What! Of course not. But a little shizzle shazzle here and there would be nice.." Jihoon pondered out loud. And now he sounded like he wanted Seungcheol to be his sugar daddy. Why don'tcha slap a label on that.

A simple chuckle elicited from Seungcheol as he continued to lead the other around his old home, showing him even the bathrooms (which were, by the way, fancy as hell. Who irons their towels?), before eventually settling on just relaxing in his own room. Small fingers brushed along the curves of the beanbag lying in the corner, eyes flickering across every surface. 

"You were a nerd, wow." A fucking poster reading 'Math rocks!', Albert Einstein chillin' in the bottom corner with his cool-ass shades on, was taped onto the biggest of all the walls, the one above Cheol's bed; commence the cringing. 

"I know, right? Gosh.. I don't even remember owning this!" he exclaimed, Diary of a Wimpy Kid book in hand. It was endearing, Jihoon thought, the way Seungcheol's huge eyes crinkled at the corners when he spotted something especially reminiscent of his childhood, and how his hands waved around aimlessly as he tried to explain the history behind them.

Then suddenly Jihoon felt the urge to push the childish male against the counter and fucking the living shit out of him. But that could wait; because this was his  _parent's_ house and he wouldn't risk his thread of hope remaining in actually accomplishing being a good boyfriend.

But then Seungcheol pulls out the goddamn porn he stored behind his endless array of textbooks, waggling it around as if it were full of gold coins which were found in the pot that they spotted at the end of the fucking rainbow. It spoke levels on his gayness. "Lookie, Uji, look!" he squealed.

"Why," was all the smaller could muster, legs practically frozen from where they were about to sit on his bed. Another beckon from the hentai film and an excited assurance that it'd be 'fun', and Jihoon was basically at the other's command.

And that's how they ended up on Cheol's old and slightly dusty bed, watching porn on the lowest volume as his parents prepared dinner. One thing lead to another, 'another' being the compromising sex position they were in, when the lead woman in the household came knocking at the door. "Cheollie? Jihoon? Dinner's ready."

Jihoon bolted upright, genital parts smacking against the pale expanse of his stomach as he dived for the nearest closet. That closet happened to be full of Star Trek shirts and Disney sweatpants, none of which did anything to help his raging boner and disappointment. 

Seungcheol, on the other hand, shuffled a blanket over where Jihoon was previously wanking off, fingers streaming through his hair in a sad attempt to fix the obvious bedhead. "Coming, ma," he hummed, a little more whinier than he intended, with the sudden intrusion and loneliness of his aching member still in mind.

Then the worst possible thing happened:

Right when Jihoon thought she was gone and began to emerge from the wardrobe, still butt-naked, the lock clicked once again, disclosing Seungcheol's mother, apparently still outside like the creepy perv she was. Oh, how the younger's imagination changed from 'supermodel mum' to 'stalker hormonal vixen'.

Both men made eye contact, shivers simultaneously running down their spines as the woman just  _stared_ at them. If that wasn't weird, he didn't know what was; an aging mother observing her naked son, and his equally-naked boyfriend, just moments after almost having a release. 

Now, it was safe to say that Jihoon's cheeks turned about as red as the tip of his cock, and Seungcheol wanted nothing else than to be chucked out of the window into incoming traffic, none of which could be helped as Mrs.Choi mumbled, "Dinner.." and withdrew from the erotic scene. 

"What the fuck," both of them echoed, glabella creasing.

~*~

"May I have a glass of water, Mrs. Choi?" Jihoon asked as politely as he could, as if it could make up for one: his terrible commentary, and two: his soon-to-be mother-in-law (depending on how well the rest of this evening goes) intruding on their live hentai.

"Water, Jisoo," she called towards the kitchen, and out emerged none other than a personal butler, holding a tray with a gold cup filled with what Jihoon's awesome Sherlock skills concluded should be water.

He didn't expect this to happen so fast, he thought maybe she'd get up and serve him some--which he later decided was quite rude of him to assume--, therefore, once the fucking Mark Zuckerberg of cups was put down, he already had quite a bit of food stuffed in his mouth.

Does he say 'thank you' with a full mouth? Does he just smile and hope no curry dribbles down the side of his chin? Or does he just sit there like a complete idiot, staring at this 'Jisoo' guy as he retreats to the kitchen?

And surprisingly, what ended up being the last in the sequence of options was initiated by none other than Lee Jihoon. Seungcheol just  _stares_ , probably mortified at the lack of manners, and partakes in option two himself, forced to take a napkin before the curry spills on his designer jeans.

"So.. What do you do for a living, Jihoon?" the man of the house offers, Colgate smile attempting to blind the awkwardness lurking.

"I.. I do exotic dancing," he blurts, napkin falling off his lap to accentuate such an outburst. He didn't do any of the sort, the boy was actually a pretty decent artist ( _no_ , he didn't paint dicks, if that's what you're thinking), and the whole 'exotic dancer idea', well. Let's just say the picture behind the dinner table, which was also conveniently in Jihoon's line of vision, wasn't the most..appropriate of sorts. And who was he to not forget his cloddish impulse?

Waist practically bending in half, Jihoon does this weird motion where he tries to catch his fingertips on the edge of the cloth, hoping his height wouldn't be too much of a burden today. 

That didn't happen. He and his vertically-challenged self gave up, leaving his significant other too smoothly swipe the napkin from the confines of the dirty ground, too easily for Jihoon's liking. A small scowl partook in his lips, soon vanishing once reality hit him like a brick to the face.

He basically just said he was a stripper. In front of Seungcheol's parents.

"An exotic dancer..? So what's that, like a ballerina?" Cheol's mother cocks her head to the side, genuinely confused. She wasn't the only one; Both younger boys stared at her, faces as blank as Jihoon's History essays. 

"No, it's actua-"

"Yes! A ballerina, that's what he does. Super cute. He even teaches it! Hah. Little girls love him, he gives the best hugs," Cheol supplies hastily, lie quite obvious if you knew his boyfriend well enough. There was no way Jihoon would so much as touch a germy child, no less  _hug_ them. But he simply grinned, nodding like a broken bobblehead.

"Oh! Do you think one of our younger cousins could apply? I bet she'd love to get Jihoon as a teacher. In fact, I'll request him!" the only female in the room chirped, hands clapping together at her intellect. Little 'uh''s and 'um''s could be heard, minds wracking for a quick response to their fib.

It just so happened to be Uji with the wits, hastily blubbering, "Actually, uhm, our dance studio closed. Yeah. A few days ago, hah. A stampede of animals ran it  over, can you believe it? Guess we'll have to use those warm-up poles for something else-" Seungcheol cleared his throat loudly. "-Like, like, uh, donating it to the firemen! They do so much for us, it's only normal we repay them with, uhm.. poles. Y'know?"

No one knew.

But they nodded anyways, more than eager to get this conversation done with.

~*~

Finally, they all were saying their goodbye's, mildly uncomfortable hugs being thrown around like fucking Oprah was in town. _'You get a hug, and you get a hug, and you-! You get the absolute embarrassment of someone who's just failed their only chance at actually feeling approved of for once.'_

"We'll send you an invite to our annual family barbecue!" the dad offered graciously, smile almost as fake as his wife's face. Yes, Jihoon just roasted an old woman and he has  _zero_ regrets about doing so.

"Really? Sounds fun!" he supplemented, actual enthusiasm on his usually stone-cold features. Maybe he didn't completely fail after all! Seungcheol stood next to him, complexion a bit pale (and a little green, if Jihoon said so himself), as he nervously tinkered with his bracelet.

"Bye, ma, pa," Cheol croaked, trying his diddly darn hardest to keep the grin plastered on his face. "Take care."

And that was the only time in the entire night that Jihoon felt safe; once they were bolting.

~*~

 **⌈A few days later.** ⌋

Jihoon got no invite. No mail. Not even a simple text.

You hear that?

Listen closely.

That's the sound of a wild Jihoon melting inside from anxiety.

**THE END. :-)**


End file.
